SuperWho Series: Angels and Monsters
by Kendareru NekoSama
Summary: A fight between brothers, the summoning of the Doctor by Death to help, and a mystery in the City of Lost Angels. (Reviews welcome)
1. Chapter 1: Alone Together (NSFW)

Dean sat against the wall, cursing loudly t himself. He and Sam had fallen into the rut of argument again, and once more Sam had stormed off to God knows were. The bottle in his hand, temporarily forgotten, was nearly empty. Their life was hard, dangerous even, but at the end of the day, what they had was family. Or so he kept telling himself. He believed it, every word, for every day of his life. If nothing else matters, family DOES.

He turned his eyes skyward. Another face that had been missing from his life flashed before his eyes. He closed them, muttering quietly, "Cas; I know you're really busy with angel crap, so I'm sorry to bug you. I... I could use some company. Sammy and I aren't seeing things on the same level right now. You're choice, buddy; I ain't gonna twist your arm."

He sat in the silence for a few moments, and then sighed, raising the bottle once more, only to find it wouldn't move. His eyes opened, finding Castiel kneeling in front of him, gripping the bottle with what looked like very little effort, and suddenly the angel's scent enveloped him. "Hello, Dean." Those two words alone were enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he let go of the bottle, flinging his arms around what seemed to be his only friend on any plane.

"Hell, it's good to see you." He felt the angel soften in his grip, and arms enfolding around him. He gave a sob, wondering how a being of such strength could ease down into a grip so gentle. "I'm happy to see you, too, Dean. I heard you call." Dean laughed at the obvious statement, shaking slightly. "Where you been, man? It's been ages." Cas stiffened slightly, but it passed quickly. "There are things I had to take care of... in Heaven."

Dean sat back, looking into the angel's worn face, but decided not to pry too deeply, and instead, simply said, "Thank you, for coming."

Cas moved, taking a seat beside Dean, looking around the room. "It's empty in here. This isn't where you've been staying?" Dean shrugged, looking down at the offending bottle. "I left the motel. I couldn't be there alone. Too much I could've done there." He let the implied imagery hang in the space between them. "I understand. But now you are not alone. Let's go back." Before Dean could protest, there was a hand in front of him, and Cas looking down to him. His lip twitched before he smirked, and touched his finger to the angel's. "Just like the painting." He gripped the offered hand, heaving himself up. He expected to be whisked away, but instead was surprised as Castiel simply walked to the door and looked out. "Where's... Baby?"

Dean was beside him now, walking outside into the rain. "At the motel," he said, "to keep her out of my troubles. You comin'?"

Castiel stepped out, and it was like the rain slid around him, over an invisible umbrella. Dean rolled his eyes. "Show off." He walked over, standing inside the bubble. "Alright, Mister Wizard. Off to Oz." Cas looked confused for a second, but the message sank in, and the next thing Dean knew, they were in the motel room. "I will NEVER get used to that."

He peeled off his coat and shirt, looking at Castiel. "Get comfy. We're not going anywhere else." Castiel nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs and sat quietly as dean went into the bathroom for a towel. Cas watched him, looking over his back at all the scars that had accumulated since Hell. All the pain that had caused them, both physical and emotional. He'd never taken time to fully put his focus into thinking about it as often as he should, as a friend. He brushed away a tear a second before Dean came back in.

"So, uh... What should we...," he was cut off as Castiel pulled him into another hug. "Dude, you okay?" Castiel's grip increased, and Dean suddenly realized that the angel was crying, and so was he. "Dean, I am so, so very sorry. Everything you've been through, everything I COULD have prevented..." The angel heaved a heavy sob, his body shuddering with it. And to Dean, it was like an earthquake passed through his soul. "Cas... Buddy, it's okay. That's all in the past. No big. C'mon." Dean's knees were giving out under the weight of this show of emotion. He led Cas over to the bed, sitting down and pulling the sobbing with him.

"Cas; Cas, look at me." Castiel looked into Dean's face, his eyes swollen with deep pain, the blue of his irises shimmering with sorrow. "We're here, alive, ALIVE, because of you, a hundred times over. I forgave you a long ass time ago." Castiel nodded, much like a small child would, trying to understand the words. "I owe you, Cas. I owe you a lot. So, anything you want, ask it."

Castiel looked down, noticing that in all of this, he had gripped the blanket on the bed, holding it like it was the last thing in his world. Then his eyes returned to Dean's face, his voice struggling to form the words. "All... All I want is... Dean, the only thing I want, is you."

Dean sat there, caught off guard. His face hardened while he mulled this over, then he closed his eyes and nodded. "Deal." He felt Castiel's hand on his cheek, soft and gentle, hiding so much power. He leaned into it, trying to relax his nerves. "I promise, I'd do nothing to purposely harm you." Dean opened his eyes, staring into his friends'. "I know. And I guess I always... I figured this'd happen eventually." He moved closer, clumsily. He felt suddenly out of place.

Castiel stood, kneeling in front of Dean, pushing him back against the bed. Dean watched as Castiel kissed over his stomach, obviously trying to mimic what he had seen in the pornos. Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Dude, you've got no experience. Here, take off your coat and shirt." He sat up, pushing the trench coat off, and the suit coat that were Castiel's usual clothes. The tie and dress shirt were next, revealing Castiel's chest. Dean stopped, remembering.

"Hey, Jimmy's still in there, right? What's he got to say about all of this?" Castiel looked at Dean, obviously confused. "He's retreated into the depths of his mind; away from reality. He no longer wishes to be part of the world, and in his mind he is with his family. I've created a place for him." Dean nodded, only vaguely understanding. "So, it's just us?" Castiel gave a small nod. "Just us." Dean undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers off, and Castiel did the same.

Dean moved further onto the bed, beckoning Castiel to him. He lay back, watching the angel, and then reached into the drawer of the bedside table, producing a pair of glasses. He slipped them on and gasped. Castiel stopped his approach, then noticed the lenses of the glasses, a flush washing over his face. Dean could see his wings, though they lacked the majesty they once held. Dean reached out to touch the ethereal wings, ignoring the fact that the lustre and sheen they should have was missing, wanting to touch them. His hand passed through the tattered wing, and he finally realized the state of them.

Castiel had fallen from grace. He'd endured so much for the Winchesters, shouldered burdens no mere human could bear. He'd suffered, inside and out, and this was the testament of all that. Dean began to cry, then pulled the angel's face to his, forehead to forehead. "They're still beautiful, Cas. I know they probably look like crap compared to what they did when we first met, but they're still amazing."

Dean's lips met Castiel's, soft and giving. Then, the kiss deepened full of their combined emotions, and their love was finally accepted between them. The kiss was broken after several moments, and Dean pushed Castiel over onto his back. As he watched, Dean kissed down his chest and stomach, his hand cradling his sac, awkward but gentle. This was a first, for them both.

Dean's lips moved lower, and Castiel's body reacted to the attention, his shaft becoming quickly rigid, just in time. Dean kissed the tip, eyes closed, focussing on what he was doing. It was obvious that he was making sure he was doing it right.

Castiel gave out a sharp gasp as Dean took the head into his mouth, his tongue playing over the opening at the top. His hand worked over the shaft, and he took to rotating his head slightly with each pass. He could feel a shiver running through the angel, and it excited him to cause the reaction. Castiel's hips began moving involuntarily, and Dean felt finger in his hair, gripping tightly.

He continued, cautiously taking more into his mouth, listening to Castiel's moans and gasps. For his first 'gay thing,' this was going rather smoothly. He tried to back up off of it, but found he couldn't move. Castiel had taken charge.

Dean struggled a bit, but found that it was to no avail. Castiel began to move his head for him, the tip teasing at the back of his throat, making him cough a bit. Then, Dean felt Castiel pull him up, and was able to catch his breath before finding himself in another passionate kiss. Then he felt one of Castiel's hands moving down his side, to his hip. The kiss was broken, and sapphire blue eyes pierced into emerald green ones. "You are my charge. My human. And I am your angel. I am your Lord." Dean gulped, not quite sure how to take the sudden affirmation, but realized that he wasn't opposed to it.

Dean felt the powerful wings encircle him; the feathers tickling his bare flesh. Then, he was eased down, and Castiel's tip was against his rear. "Cas, buddy, I don't think...," he was cut off by Castiel's hand over his mouth. "No, Dean. You don't need to think; you need me." Dean felt a tremor go through his spine, and he nodded, leaning forward against his friend. Cas was gentle, easing slowly into him a little at a time, allowing him time to get used to it, stopping every time he winced. The slow progression reassured Dean, making him relax. Once Castiel was fully in, the angel began to guide him, up a little ways, and then back down. Once the pace had been set, Dean easily kept at it. Castiel began to kiss and nip at Dean's torso; a bite here, a kiss there, a tongue tracing symbols on his skin.

Castiel's hands caressed and explored him, every once in a while moving down to feel where they connected, causing Dean to shake with pleasure. Castiel laid back, hands on Dean's hips, his own matching the rhythm. Dean leaned forward over him, panting hard, and looking down he realized his cum coated Castiel's stomach. He blushed, and instantly Castiel's hand was on his cheek, caressing his face. Dean found himself pressing into the strong hand, even bringing his own up to cover it.

After a little while, Castiel placed a hand on Dean's chest, signalling for him to stop. "You've done a good job, Dean. You deserve a break. I'll do the work now." Dean lifted himself off of the angel, allowing him out from under. He pulled a pillow over, resting his head n it as Castiel maneuverer behind him. He felt the member sink back into him; slow at first, but then Castiel gripped his hips tightly, pressing hard into him. Dean gave a yelp of surprise, but this time Castiel did not stop. True to his word, the angel was hard at work, and all Dean could manage was to hold onto the bed.

Castiel's pace quickened and slowed rhythmically, waves of motion cascading him against Dean. After a while, he slowed, drawing out each pass, driving Dean mad with need. Castiel's hand slipped under him, gripping his member, and slowly stroking it in unison. Not long after, the two finished together, the angel collapsing atop the human, and they sank down onto the bed, heaving and panting.

Dean closed his eyes, and when they opened again, sunlight was filtering between the curtains. There was a weight on his side, and turning his head, he saw Castiel, asleep beside him. He noticed the covers had been pulled up over them, and his eyes soon found Sam, sitting on the opposite bed.

You know, Dean; I was not expecting to come back to the two of you in a tangled heap. I think I'm scarred for life now, Jerk." He smiled at his older brother, holding out a cup of coffee. Dean took it, setting it on the bedside table, and muttered, "Bitch."

He carefully eased himself up, stretching sore muscles. "This guy, right here? He's an animal." He grabbed the trench coat off the ground and pulled it around him, and wandered to the shower, Sam laughing after him.

"So, you still pissed at me?" He started the shower, but still heard Sam call out, "I'm a little ticked off, yea, but we're brothers. We're supposed to argue." Dean chuckled, checking himself in the mirror.

After his shower, Dean got dressed and started in on his coffee. "So, what's the word?" Sam looked up from his laptop. "There seems to be something huge out in L.A. Wake up your boyfriend, and we can be there in a few hours."

Dean roused Castiel, and after everything was packed and cleaned up, the three drove off to the City of Lost Angels.


	2. Chapter 2: Death's Companion

I've been called many things; The Oncoming Storm, The Predator of the Daleks, but mostly, I'm The Doctor. I'm a Time Lord; the very last one. I've travelled most of space, quite a bit of time, and even seen beyond the universe. Someday, though, even a Time Lord must submit to the end if his days.

I've touched many lives, and the same has been returned to me in kind. 1400 years and 11 regenerations. One day, though, a very peculiar thing happened...

Sexy, my TARDIS was on a course to the Rome, sometime in March. I'd promised someone I'd visit again, and I wasn't about to break another promise. Suddenly, the Time Vortex broke off, heading out of the universe once more. I tried my level best to stop it, but I was powerless to divert course.

When Sexy landed, I was a bit disoriented. Suddenly all of this universes history filled my mind, beating back that of the one I'd left behind. It was a painful experience, but not one I hadn't experienced before.

In this 'verse, the Earth didn't come into contact with alien races, but those of a more supernatural background. I knew right away that this was going to be interesting.

* * *

The Doctor looked around, circling the TARDIS and scratched his head. "Where the bloody blazes am I _NOW_?" He was frustrated, and understandably so. It's not every day one found themself separated from their own space/time.

Suddenly, a chill found its way down his spine, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Who's there? I've got a screwdriver, so I'm warning you," he threatened into the empty air around him, pulling the sonic device out of his coat pocket.

He made a full circle, finding himself face to face with a man that looked similar to his own first incarnation. "Doctor, it's a pleasure to meet you." The man gave a small smile and held out a bag, offering it to him. "Jelly baby?"

The Doctor looked at the bag suspiciously, asking, "They're not poisoned, are they. It's amazing how many people want me dead these days." The man scoffed, and ate one himself. "I don't poison guests, Doctor. And yes, I summoned you here. I require a favour, one which I will return."

The Doctor reached into the bag when it was offered once more, taking a vanilla one. "So, who in this strange place are you?" He popped the candy into his mouth, the flavour bringing back many memories. "Who I am is of little relevance, but since you asked… I'm Death."

The Doctor stopped chewing, staring agape at the man. "Excuse me?" Death sighed, taking up his cane, which was leaning against the TARDIS. "You heard me correctly. Why must mortals be so disrespectful? Finish chewing before you speak, please."

The two men stood there for a long while, and when The Doctor finished chewing and swallowed, he opened the door and invited his host in. Death strode past the threshold, barely phased by the change in space.

"So, Mister Death. Why am I here?" Death walked once around the console, inspecting it, before replying, "I need your help, or rather, there's a couple humans who do. They go by the name Winchester, and they're in the middle of a war."

The Doctor held up a hand. "I beg your pardon, but did you say war? I may be an old soldier, but I don't do wars anymore. One was quite enough." Death chuckled. "My good man, when a being of my age and power asks one such as yourself a favour, especially when said being has the power of cutting you down, it is best to hear him out fully."

The Doctor opened his mouth, and then thinking better of it, took a seat and responded, "I'm listening." Death gripped his cane, a smirk still alight his face. "Thank you. Now, one of these boys is my protégé of sorts. There are big things in store for them, mark my word. And you're going to help them on this path.

"They're currently on their way to Los Angeles to investigate something. I've already seen to your ship's power, so no need to waste your life on it." Death nodded to the centre console, and a few of the switches and knobs moved of their own accord. "She knows where to go." With that, Death vanished.

The Doctor sat there, shaken by the encounter. He'd had many brushes with death, but never an audience with him. After a few moments he stood and leaned over the console, whispering, "I hope you know what we're getting into." With that, he threw the Wibbley Lever, and the TARDIS vanished, leaving for the next step of his journey.


	3. Chapter 3: Hunters Pray

Mary had never run so hard in all her life, even as a young girl on hunts with her father. She had bided her time in heaven, learning what wards would render her invisible, for the most part, until she could find her family. Once she had escaped, all hell broke loose.

There was something big going on, and she knew her sons would be in the thick of it; if not at this moment, then soon. She peeked over the log at the clearing, the Angel lights visible. They were redoubling their efforts, but they could hone in on her only so close. That was all she needed.

She gave it a few more moments before darting into the woods, panting heavily. "C'mon, John; where are you?" She knew that her husband had escaped hell long before her own return. There was a bar up in heaven with all the news on all the planes. That's where she'd gotten her intel.

She could still hear the angels, even though she'd left them far behind. She'd somehow gained the ability to overhear their communications, which was vital to her escape. However, she only had access to the lower bands of the Angel Radio. Luckily, it was enough.

* * *

He'd been running for God knows how long. He leaned over; he tried to catch his breath. He'd given the demons the slip for now, but he knew that wouldn't last long. There had been talk of someone breaking out of heaven, and he had a good idea who.

John jogged up the road, then, seeing a dirt path branch off, decided he'd do better in the countryside. There were fewer people out this way, which meant fewer possessions. The demons would actually have to work to find his ass.

He slowed down, letting his muscles take a break of sorts, letting the burning in his lungs ease. With the change in management of Hell, they were a lot keener to find him. Not just him, either, but all of the Winchesters. He hoped his boys were okay, even if only two of them were topside.

He cursed under his breath. Had he known Adam would be dragged into things, he'd have waited before escaping. It seemed like everyone in their family was marked for one thing or another.

He found an abandoned farm, a remnant of the so called apocalypse. He searched the house, taking what provisions he needed for a while, and gathering them on the kitchen table. That out of the way, he went outside.

The area wasn't particularly defensible, though he didn't plan on sticking around long enough to fight. He happened across a truck near the barn, and was elated to see it still had gas in the tank. This would be his escape plan.

* * *

Mary came out of the woods after hours of wandering through brambles, and finally found her destination. There was light in one of the windows, probably from a candle to be less noticeable.

She made her way cautiously, eyeing the open area wearily as she got closer to the house. When she was at the truck, she rapped in the hood of it, and the figure inside pokes a shotgun out the door. "Get off my property, or so help me…"

She laughed. "You know, all rock salt will do to me is just sting like a bitch, John." She waited; she knew that he recognized her voice, and it hit him hard. Finally, he peeked out, and asked, "Mary?"

She put her hands up, walking closer. She could see the distress in his face, and it hurt her. "Is that really you? My god…" He regained his composure, giving her an awkward smile. "You forgot your halo and harp upstairs."

They both laughed, and she responded, "I was dead, not an angel. There's a difference. The same can be said of your horns and pitchfork." John's eyes widened and he reached up with a gasp. "Where's they go," he asked in mock horror.

She ran to him, finally, and when he reached him, he put his arms around her. "John, I'm so sorry. You should have never taken up being a hunter over me, not with your family…" He looked a question at her, and her eyes watered. "Your father was a Man of Letters. They helped hunters, keeping records of everything."

He shook his head. "My dad never mentioned that before he disappeared." Mary touched his face. "He disappeared because he came to the future, to look for you. He died to save our sons." John winced, and he looked away. "Two of them, anyway."

Mary smiled up at him. "I know about Adam, John. You did what you had to, but you should have been more attentive to the sons you had. I'm not angry, just disappointed." He looked away, shamed. "I'm sorry, Mary."

She took his hand, leading him inside, looking around, and then turned serious. "So, what do we have? I may be rusty, but I'm still a hunter." She grinned at him, and they went over everything he could find here in the house.

Once everything was accounted for, she turned to him again. "Time to pray, then." John looked at her, confused. "A bit late for that, isn't it? No one's listening." She chuckled, patting his arm. "There's always someone listening."

She got down to her knees, bowed her head, and folded her hands together. "I pray to you, Castiel, angel of Thursday. Angel of the journey. I ask for your help to reach my… our children. Please, take us to them."

She heard John gasp, and she opened her eyes, looking up at the figure in the trench coat, his face passive. "Hello, Mary." She smiled, answering, "Hello, Castiel. It's nice to finally meet the man who's protected my children."

Castiel looked around. "Gather what you need. We shouldn't be too long here." His eyes fell upon John, and set his stance. "John." Before he could react, the angel had him pinned to the wall, and Mary just stood where she was, fear on her face.

He suddenly felt a burning at this throat. "This is an angel blade, John. It can kill almost anything, including demons and angels. You still hold the mark of Hell on you and with that, Crowley can find you."

John's eyes widened. "Then why hasn't he…" Castiel tightened his grip. He's using you to find Sam, and Dean." The emphasis on Dean's name struck a chord in John. "What do I do, then?"

Castiel looked down, and then back up. "I need to touch your soul. I cannot make you human again, but I can make you untraceable." John nodded, and then said, "Do it. I don't want them getting my boys."

The room flooded with light, and John's screams, as Castiel plunged his hand into the man's abdomen. After feeling around, Castiel finally pulled his arm out, gripping something tightly in his hand. Mary, instinctively, brought over a jar, and the angel dropped a worm-like creature in.

"This we'll leave here." John stared at it, shock on his face. "THAT was in ME?" Castiel touched his shoulder, more gentle than he had been. "That is the physical manifestation of how Hell tracks its demons."

After shaking himself out of this reverie, John and Mary gathered a few of the supplies, and turned to the angel. "We're ready." Castiel placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and a moment later, Sam and Dean were staring at them.

Dean dropped his sandwich, jolting to his feet. "Mom? Dad?" Sam sat, speechless. Mary looked at her boys, then at John, and began to cry. Castiel quickly moved out of the way, a clatter of falling chairs as the boys rushed to their parents.


	4. Chapter 4: Adam's Eve

The night air was cool on his skin, like it had been the night he had finally clawed his way out of hell. He remembered the rage he'd felt when he saw Sam walking down the corridors, passing by all the damned souls, passing by him. He had known Sam was real, and that he was alive still. Adam had managed to escape Lucifer and Michael, only to be caught by the demons and locked in a cell.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. Hell for the living was a different kind of torture than it was for the dead, and when Sam had pulled him down years ago, he'd been very much alive. Another shake; he had to focus. He'd taken up the 'family' mantle, taking his anger out on the monsters of the world.

He'd been surprised how easy some of them made it to track them, even for a novice like himself. This most recent one, though, was a bit more worth his attention. He'd overheard there was a shape shifter that had escaped in the area, and decided to investigate. Something that could be anything was a worthy challenge.

He'd had very little to go on, but figured the best place for it to hide was in the sewers. It wasn't as horrible as he thought it would be, though he'd definitely been in worse situations.

His flashlight fell upon something that didn't look normal, even for the current environment. Moving closer, he saw that it was slightly gelatinous, and warm enough to put off steam. The closer he got, the more his stomach seemed to churn at the sight of the mound. When he was within a few feet of it, he realized that it looked like flesh.

He heaved into the water. He'd had the forethought to only have a light snack before coming down here, but even that was too much at the moment. He collected himself, steeling to the job at hand. He went to in, picking up a stray bar of metal and moved the… whatever it was around.

Most of the face was intact, and he'd realized that he recognized it as a girl he saw at the local library. He cursed under his breath; he'd asked her where the books on supernatural things were. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm him down, which was a huge mistake in his situation, causing him to gag again.

There was only a very small chance she actually knew that he was looking for her, if she was actually her, and not the real her. She seemed normal enough, but then, very little in the world was actually normal for him anymore.

He made his way back topside, careful to keep from being spotted, and made for his current lair. The town he was in was one where there were plenty of empty houses, and with a little finesse, he'd managed to get some water going.

He made sure everything was as he left it, and that all entrances were locked and salted. When everything was to his satisfaction, he went upstairs to grab a shower. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing to get the stench off of him, but he deserved the time to relax.

As the water ran over him, Adam sat on the floor of the shower, propping his feet on the wall opposite and letting his mind blank. He did his best to put everything from his mind, even the job, just to take in the silence of his solitude. It was almost relaxing. Then, they flashed across the inside of his eyelids.

_It's only a matter of time, Adam. The demons will find you again_, jeered Lucifer.

_All you had to do was fight Sam when he grabbed you. You were my vessel, and I needed you to complete my job. We failed, because of you,_ scorned Michael.

Adam put his arms over his head, even though it did little to dispel the voices inside his skull. He lay down on his side, curled up, and sobbed. It wasn't fair; why didn't Sam see him. Why did he save the old man and not his own brother? What happened to family?

Adam awoke, the sun filtering through the window of the next room, through the door of the bathroom. The water was still running, though now cold. He'd been out for a few hours, at the very least.

He got up and shut off the water, cursing at himself. This is why he didn't sleep often; he tried to put off his torment as long as possible. Some days, however, it couldn't be helped.

After he was dried and dressed, he looked over his supplies, trying to decide what sounded appetizing. So far, he'd been lucky enough not to get caught taking what he did, and so long as that luck held out, he wasn't about to complain.

He heated up a can of spaghetti-o's, forcing back the memories of his former life as they tried to creep back into his conscious mind. He smirked, thinking about how any therapist would react to the shit he'd seen and been through.

He decided to take this time to pour over the town map he'd acquired. It was simple enough now that he had an idea of who he was after. All he had to do was follow her, learn her habits, and slit her throat with a silver knife. If _they_ could do it, so could he.

* * *

She took the time to relax. It had been a long day, and she was feeling pretty good about herself. Unlike some other… she supposed "monsters" was the word to use, but she didn't like thinking that about herself. She wasn't sure "species" was an appropriate word, but it didn't denigrate her self-worth. Unlike other creatures, she didn't have trouble with iron. Her only foreseeable issue was silver, and she had plenty excuses when it came to avoiding it.

She picked up the photo of the hunters who'd found her, years back. She'd been a child then, and they took pity on her. The name they gave her, though, changed with her face. That was the upside of being a shifter; you never had to be one person. But it was also a lonely existence. When the hunters, her adopted parents, passed away, it left her more alone.

They'd be proud of her, though. She kept the surrounding area safe, relatively speaking, for the community they called home for so long. She made sure that the casualties remained minimal, but she couldn't be everywhere at once. Another shifter had drifted into town and killed a few students, but she'd taken care of him. Unfortunately, another hunter had come in after looking for him, and found her trail instead.

There wasn't much one could do with the biological leavings of changing form, and she usually did it in a controlled environment, but circumstances had made in necessary to change as soon as possible. She was sure he'd found it by now.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. While most girls her age would have posters in that space, every ceiling in the house has symbols drawn or carved, some hidden, others not so much. She traced her finger in the air, drawing out a few of her favourites. She smiled at the irony of her kind having favourite protection symbols.

She turned her head, looking out the window into the darkness. "Well, I suppose I should patrol. Maybe I'll see him out there. Would be nice to have a friend."

She got up, turned and knelt down beside the bed, saying a small prayer, before gathering her gear. She left the silver spikes where they were, but took her handling gloves just in case. She also made sure the plating in her vest was up to standard. She didn't want to cross to the other side just to get an earful from her parents.

She made sure all the security was in place before leaving. The doorways salted and locked, she went out into the night. Hopefully, she would be allowed a low profile. While she wanted to meet the hunter, she didn't want it to be the last thing she did.

* * *

When night fell, Adam gathered his things. It was time to change location again. If he stayed in one place for too long, someone was bound to find him out. He cleaned everything up, until it looked as though he'd never been there. After that, he left the house.

He followed down an alleyway toward the next lair. He'd been watching it for a bit, and was satisfied with people's disinterest with it. It wasn't better looking than the one he'd just left, but its low profile meant he could be there longer.

He finally moved out onto the main street, a block away. He kept to the shadows, watching for any movement. He froze, seeing someone come from the opposite way. They were dressed much like what he'd thought an experienced hunter would. But this person was definitely about his age.

He watched as the other person stalked much as he was up the street, then stop. It hit him why they'd stopped; that hunter was scoping his new lair. He cursed to himself. If he thought it was the perfect hiding place, any other hunter with sense would too.

He waited for them to duck inside before moving closer himself. Going around to the back, he carefully jimmied open the door and let himself in. Letting his eyes adjust before moving, he scanned the immediate area.

* * *

She sighed to herself, a little crestfallen. He wasn't here either. This was the last possible building in town that she could think he was possibly hiding. This meant she'd have to start searching abandoned homes.

A sound in the next room made her stop. She stood still, holding her breath and straining her ears. The soft scraping of shoes on the bare floor was just barely audible. She was not alone, and that both terrified and excited her.

She decided to take a risk. "Hello?" she called out. Seconds stretched out whilst she listened. The movement had stopped. "Is there anyone there? I just want to talk." Again, she was met with silence. She sighed. "Hunter to hunter. I'm laying my gun down."

She set her shotgun on the ground, making sure to be noisy about it. A voice called out, "Kick it away." Forcing herself not to curse, she did as asked. A boy peeked around the corner, eyes flashing with recognition. "Shit," she heard him whisper.

"You say you're a hunter?" She nodded, then stopped, realizing how dumb she looked. "Yea. Learned it from my folks." The muzzle of his gun preceded him into the room. Her breath hitched, eyes locked on his weapon. She had good reflexes, but he'd pull the trigger before she could do any damage to him.

His eyes were ringed, and he looked tired. He was obviously suffering from sleep deprivation. "You're sure you're a hunter," he gave her a cold look. She shrugged at him, then shot back sarcastically, "Want to see my credentials? I think I left my Hunter School Diploma in my other bra."

He smirked, but it never touched his eyes. His gun remained trained on her chest. "You're a shifter." The moment of truth, then. "I am. I took out the other one, though." She barely suppressed a grin as shock passed over his face. "Other?"

She twitched her head toward a crate, looking a question at him. His eyes flickered toward it briefly, and he nodded. "Go ahead." She sat, pulling her knife from her belt and setting it beside her in a show of good faith. He didn't so much as lower his gun. "Look, I'm talking to you friendly like. Mind sharing the courtesy?"

His eyes hardened, and he looked over his shoulder, startled. She watched as he mouthed something to an invisible person. After a few seconds, he set the gun down. "Fine; talk." Seeing her puzzled look, he added, "Just say it's the angel on my shoulder."

She explained about her parents and her continued vigil over the town. He listened intently, almost not blinking the entire time. When she finished, he sat and processed it all. "Well, the fact that I'm still alive lends you some credibility, but I need to see the body."

She frowned, but understood his reluctance. "Deal. As a bonus, you can carry my gun." She figured she'd let him hold the full deck while she laid out the chips. That and every girl liked it when guy carried their stuff for them. He moved to the gun, still watching her, and picked it up.

They exited through the back, and she led him into a wooded area. Or rather, they reached the edge of it, and he stopped dead. She noticed his footfalls had stopped and patiently turned to face him. "Yep, this is where I kill you with my piddly little knife. You know; the one I left on the crate?"

He actually smiled this time. "Paranoia; you know how it is. I'm sure your parents had it." She shrugged, raising a palm skyward. "Maybe a little bit. They did raise me not to be an idiot." His mouth split into a grin. "And here you are, unarmed, leading a stranger into the woods."

The irony wasn't wasted on her. "So you coming?" He set both guns under a bush, and answered simply "Yea. Lead the way." She turned on the spot, walking casually ahead, winding a barely visible path through the trees.

"The great thing about out-of-towners is no one in town misses them. Creatures wander into town, and if I gotta kill them, I just drag the carcasses out here. No fuss and no search parties." They passed a few bodies in various states of decay, and finally came to a stop. Leaning down, the holds the eye of the body open, shining a light on it, and causing the distinct reflective glow.

Looking up at him, she casually asks, "Satisfied?" He stood there, staring. "Your own kind. You killed one of your own; why?" She furrowed her brow, looking up at him. "This asshole was killing my friends. What would you have done?"

The question struck him silent for a moment, and then he looked her in the eye and replied, "I don't know. I haven't got any. No friends, and my family is worthless." She glared at him. "That's a pretty heartless thing to say."

He glared at her, true anger colouring his face. "They left me, alone, at me mercy of an arch angel and the devil himself. I sat in Hell, and I do mean that literally, and waited. One of my brothers was there with me, and he got pulled out, and I got left behind. I got LEFT to suffer. Don't you DARE tell me how I can and cannot feel about those fuckers!"

He twitched, again turning toward something not there, silently conversing with it. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears. "Just go away! You're not here to torture me any longer; you're my imagination!" It dawned on her what he was seeing, and, kneeling beside him, she touched his shoulder.

"I forgot to ask; what's your name?" He stopped trembling, recognition of something real coming into contact with him. He gripped her wrist, making it impossible for her to remover her hand had she wanted to. His eyes bored into hers pleadingly. "Adam. I'm Adam."

She smiled to him, letting him use her as an anchor. "Well then, Adam, I suppose I'll be Eve." He blinked, confused. She touched his face with her free hand. "I don't have an actual name; with my changing, my parents decided I'd have a new name every time I got a new face. Since you're Adam, I'll be Eve. And I'll come with you."

He exhaled shakily, collapsing against her. She put her arms around him, protecting him as best she could from his unseen demons. She now had a friend, one who could actually understand her, and she would be his shield from the darkness in his soul. An angel, and a monster.


	5. Chapter 5: Along for the Ride

The TARDIS groaned and complained the entire flight. It was still able to travel space, but the time circuit would not cooperate. "Well, isn't this a fine mess. I am sorry, Sexy. We'll wrap this up quick as a flash and head back." The TARDIS made an unhappy sounding noise. "Yes, I promise. You have my word."

The ship spun across the sky, invisible to any ground observer. Death, it would seem, had slipped him several sets of coordinate that he was to reach in a specific order to meet up with several people. He checked the view screen, hoping for some clue, muttering under his breath.

* * *

The truck that John had been working on was running like a dream, and he and Mary were flying down the highway. They had talked very little, both feeling awkward in the other's company. Finally, John switched off the radio.

"Why are you back, Mary? I thought Heaven was supposed to be some sort of paradise." She looked up from one of the magazines he had placed in a box on the floorboard, giving a sigh. "It was, but it was empty." He looked over to her. "Empty? What do you mean, empty?"

She placed the magazine carefully back into the box. "You weren't there, and any time the boys were, it was brief, and they never remembered. Heaven is a lonely prison, John. You're free to make it as you wish, but even without the bars, it's a prison." There was an uncomfortable pause, and then he reached over and touched her hand. "I'm sorry. That probably came out harsher than I meant. You've no idea how glad I am to have you with me again."

She smiled at him. "John Winchester, you stubborn ass. I gave up a hunter's life to marry you, you know?" He nodded. "I do. Having lived that life, I know how hard it is to quit." She laughed. "Actually, it was the easiest choice of my life. But you, John; you were supposed to be something more." His brow furrowed. "More? What, you mean my dad's business? Not much to that."

She stared at the side of his head for a long moment. "You don't know, do you? What your father did, it was important." He looked at her incredulously. "Yea, important enough to leave his only son behind, alone." She shifted closer, touching his arm. "John, you father was…"

Her sentence was cut off as he slammed on the breaks. As they both stared out the wind-shield, neither of them knew what to make of the blue box in front of them. It just didn't feel natural. The side of it suddenly cast a light out toward the side of the road, and a gangly man stepped out squinting back at them.

"Sorry, terribly sorry; perhaps you can help me. I'm the Doctor, and I'm looking for a couple of boys; the Winchester, I believe. Silly, I know, being named after a gun, but I don't dictate these things, no." John could feel his jaw hanging down. Coming to his senses, he leaned out the window. "Did you just say Winchester boys?"

The man in the road beamed. "Ah, good; you know them. Splendid; top notch! I told you it was the right place!" The man had turned, speaking toward the box, but no response came, rather the light on top flashed.

John looked at Mary, but the best she could do was shrug. He turned his gaze back to the strange man, who was now inches away, startling John. "Oh, terribly sorry, didn't mean to alarm you. As I said, though, I'm the Doctor. I don't think we can fit your truck into my ship, so how about we put my ship in the back of your truck?"

John was desperately trying to keep up. "Ship? Like a space ship? You an alien?" The Doctor sighed. "Yes. I am a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, this beautiful blue wonder is my ship, and I really must insist that we speed this up or we'll be late." Befuddled, John did the most logical thing he could think of, which was to get out and help the man.

The box was lighter than it looked, and after a few minutes of manoeuvring, they had it in the bed of the truck. Massaging his palms, John turned back to the Doctor. "You're gonna need to ride in back, I'm afraid. Where are you headed, besides to meet my boys."

The Doctor suddenly clasped John's shoulders. "Your boys! Brilliant! I guess that Death chap really knows his stuff. Of course he'd send me to you first." John paled at the mention of Death. "The reapers sent you? He backed away, reaching for the truck door to get his gun.

"No, not reapers; Death. He pulled me out of my universe to help you lot, and without the convenience of time travel, either. My TARDIS is not pleased, let me tell you." Again, the light in the box lit up, and this time it made an indignant noise. The doctor gave an apologetic look. "The whole ordeal is making her a bit cranky."

John was beside himself, unable to wrap his brain around all of this. Suddenly, Marry was at his side. "Doctor? I believe you when you say your intentions are good. If you're here to help my sons, then we should go and find them, shouldn't we? John, I hope you don't mind, but I think I'll keep our new passenger company."

She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. He looked at her, and then nodded. "We don't have any rope to rig your ship to the bed." The Doctor waved his hand dismissively. "Not to worry, she won't budge an inch. Sturdiest ship in three universes." John nodded. "I'll take your word for it."

The doctor climbed up into the back of the truck, and as he did, the doors of the box swung inward to reveal an impossible sight; a console room larger that the ship looked to be able to contain. John and Mary stood transfixed, and the Doctor held out his hand. "I'll give you both a full tour later. For now, let's be off. Come along, Po… Ma'am, if you please."

Neither one missed the look of pain on the Doctor's face as he corrected himself mid-word. John and the Doctor helped Mary up onto the truck bed, and she and the Doctor went into the impossible box. John went back to the cab, climbed in, and started it up. He had the feeling this was going to be a long trip.


End file.
